


All That I Can Give to You

by msculper



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, So much kissing, mild sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msculper/pseuds/msculper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Caleb tells Ben he loves him, and one time Ben says it back.</p>
<p>Tags to be updated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The angst, you guys. The angst.
> 
> So I turned this post (http://msculper.tumblr.com/post/143298797920/just-imagine#notes) into a 5 and 1 thing for the Murder Boyfriends TM. 
> 
> I love you all, and I'm sorry. Okay bye.

They woke up in the same bed. It wasn't the first time, and Caleb supposed it wouldn't be the last. When you grew up best friends in a small, sleepy, seaside town, you were bound to share a bed at least a few times: the dead of winter, after months away (one at university and one at sea), exhausted from playing. 

A breeze slipped under the thin fabric walls of the tent and fluttered across Caleb’s exposed neck and shoulder. He dug himself further under Ben's covers, attempting to slide closer without disturbing the still-sleeping body next to him. It was strange to be this cold, even so early in the morning, after weeks of scorching late summer Virginia heat penetrating the camp long into the night. The sweet aroma of a thin layer of morning dew rose through the air with the first whispers of sunlight. He chanced a look at Ben, watching the gentle twitching of his eyelashes against his sun-kissed cheeks. Ben deserved a long deep sleep, Caleb thought. After everything they'd done - everything  _ Ben _ had done - and now after the largest victory they'd ever mustered at Yorktown. The war should soon be over, and Ben more than anyone deserved a nice quiet retirement.

Caleb watched Ben's eyelashes flutter with the wind and wisps of long, golden hair dance across his forehead. He saw the deep brown freckles and blond highlights framing Ben's face shine into definition as the pale, adolescent sunlight became more pronounced. Averting Caleb’s gaze, Ben stretched on his back and lazily peeked out through one eye. The sight of his best friend was apparently enough to appease him back into sleep with a drowsy grin painted across his tanned face.

Caleb was profoundly happy. 

Ben's sheets were softer than Caleb’s, his being an officer and all, and it felt like one of Ben's eager embraces though they were separated by as much room as the tiny cot would allow. He felt the slow wax and wane of Ben's breaths across his chest where Ben was curled back into a sleeping ball. 

Leaning forward, Caleb rested his lips on Ben's rumpled hairline. It was dangerous, awfully dangerous, being together like this. The odds of getting caught were high, but Ben was worth it. Major Benjamin Tallmadge was worth everything.

He didn't mean for it to be spoken aloud, but as soon as the vibration began in his throat, Caleb couldn't stop it. “I love you, Ben.” The hair on the top of his head was displaced by Caleb’s breath. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” It came spewing out of Caleb with a startled laugh. That singular thought had been coiled up within Caleb’s chest for as long as he remembered. It had been a strange sensation that flared at every memory of him and every moment spent alone. He didn’t feel like a giddy school boy - this was beyond that - but he rather felt immense gratitude, loyalty, and attachment to his best friend who felt like so much more to Caleb than his cousins, or Abe, or his fellow sailors. It was pure, glowing love. 

Ben squirmed against his breath, fully waking up. His voice was shrouded with the thick grogg of sleep, and his eyes were squinting against the thin veil of sunlight lowering over the tent. “You say something, Caleb?” 

Caught in his confession, Caleb scrambled off of the bed without so much as a glance back at Ben. He cleared his throat. “No, I was just getting up, Benny.” He knew he sounded suspicious. Ben was still shifting in bed, so Caleb hoped against hope that the head of Continental Intelligence had missed his unusual behavior. 

“Christ, what time is it?” Ben sounded much more awake.  _ Damn. _ Caleb slipped his shirt over his head and tucked it into his breeches as quickly as he could. It felt suspiciously like one of those one-night stands that were supposed to be exceedingly popular with sailors. Caleb wouldn’t know. 

“Just after dawn, I don’t know.” Caleb needed to calm down his voice. If Ben could read tell-tale shifts in the voices of complete strangers, he would be able to sense the quavering in his best friend’s. 

“Caleb, I told you to wake me up before dawn.”

“Yeah, when we went to bed at three in the morning. Ben, you need some rest and I know that this is the most you’ve slept in months.”

Ben huffed as he rolled on his stockings and tucked them under the edges of his breeches. 

“You deserve better. I think Washington can miss you for a few minutes.”

Ben glared up at him, but yanked his boots on slightly less violently. 

Caleb slipped on his waistcoat and stepped into his boots. The sooner he was out of this now suffocating tent, the better. He needed Ben, more than he cared to admit, and nothing hurt more than being scared of him. Than being scared of admitting his undying love and devotion. Than being scared of his admission going to that section of Ben’s brain that heard the words but not the meaning. Than being scared of not getting anything back. 

He made sure Ben was at least mostly dressed before slipping out of the tent in silence. 

***

The sun lazily settled beyond the horizon flanked by stripes of wispy, dreamlike clouds. Sparks from the camp fires (only a few logs short of being roaring flames) licked into the pastel sky. Caleb sat at one such fire, passing a jug of the strong stuff back and forth with a few friends from the dragoons, convinced to drink so heavily by the recent victory that saw their commander retreated into the General’s tent for almost a week straight. 

Their shoulders and knees were beginning to knock together when the tall and proud, albeit perpetually worried, figure of Ben loped into view. He dropped next to Caleb, tearing the bottle out of his hand and downing as much as he could in one swallow. 

“That great of a meeting, huh?” Caleb was joking, naturally, but he couldn’t help but let his concern bleed through his eyes. 

Ben just looked at him, shook his head, and laughed into another gulp of alcohol. Caleb, catching the eyes of the young dragoons on the other side of him, nodded them away as subtly as he could (which was not so subtly at all). 

Ben swallowed, again, before sloppily dragging his hand across his mouth. “Washington says this could be the beginning of the end. The British officers aren’t communicating and Parliament has been pouring more and more money that they don’t have into this campaign, but we’re getting stronger. Messengers are being sent to Congress with instructions to send a peace envoy as soon as possible. Rochambeau already gave word that they could meet in Paris and Lafayette is sending word home to the King and -”

“Ben. Slow down.” Caleb barely suppressed the urge to grab Ben’s face and search it by the dancing orange light. “Why’s this got you so stressed?”

“It’s… it’s not important.”

He scoffed. “Obviously it is if it’s got ya drinking like a sailor, Reverend’s boy.” 

“Caleb, what did you really say this morning? Before I woke up?” Those piercing, perceptive blue eyes.

Caleb paused. He’d nearly forgotten. How he could have, he had no clue, but the doldrum camp activities of the day had made him forget his morning confession. Reaching over to grab the bottle from Ben with one hand, Caleb pressed his other hand on Ben’s closest knee, leaving just enough pressure to be remembered. 

He drank deeply and stood.

“Just what you already know, Tallboy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is my kid.

Ben had gotten Caleb alone. After weeks of Caleb pretending he didn’t see the calculating assessments of Ben’s eyes. Of waffling between saving Ben the trouble and actually telling him exactly how he felt or keeping up the painful charade. Of stomaching down the urge to grab his hand and just walk straight out of camp and to the West, not stopping until they collapsed on top of each other, ready to start over. 

All it had taken was one word and Caleb was following after him, loyal as a dog. The entire way to the bank of the rapids, Caleb had stayed close on Ben’s heels, a million thoughts spinning through his head as quickly as the Virginia water. 

Ben had locked his fingers around Caleb’s elbows and dragged him closer. He had mumbled, his breath intermixing with Ben’s, in a rumbling voice just audible beneath the water, “Why are we here, Major?” Caleb knew what he wanted them to be doing. He knew it and had for years. 

“Caleb,” came the whispered, awe-stricken response. He saw more than heard Ben’s utterance with eyes trained on Ben’s lips in a trance. 

They both leaned into it.

Naturally, Caleb did.

Unexpectedly, Ben did, too.

Caleb felt like he was soaked head to toe in glorious sunlight as Ben’s lips came crashing down onto his, despite the shaded cover of forest. He relished the feel of cool, metal buttons as he secured a hand on Ben’s chest and the slippery smoothness of Ben’s hair, just washed that morning, as he snaked a hand to the back of his neck. Two long, narrow, nimble hands cupped his jawline, rubbing a few beard hairs the wrong direction and sending a tingling sensation across his face and neck. 

They broke apart with a shared laugh, their hands unwilling to relinquish their holds on each other. Ben and Caleb kissed until they were spent, dragging air into their lungs with deep gasps and heaving chests. 

Caleb held Ben’s hand until they were just out of earshot of the camp patrols. 

***

_ There was no use for the Second Continental Light Dragoons. Not anymore. _

Caleb had half of a mind to march straight into Washington’s tent, yank him down to eye level by his perfectly ironed uniform and tell him just how useful the dragoons, and their commander, could be. His eyes bore into the bottom of his tankard. He was thankful it was a sturdy metal. That way, it wouldn’t bend under his furious grip, and he wouldn’t have to shell out more for it or explain why he was treating a tankard of ale like the head of a redcoat. 

“Caleb! Caleb, haven’t you been listening?” Caleb tore his gaze up to Ben’s confused yet entertained grin next to him. He blinked himself back to the conversation. “I’m to work right under Washington. With Ham and Lafayette and all of them. I won’t be an Aide, per-se, but it is a promotion and if I do well enough, I could come out of this as a Colonel.” He looked so excited. More excited than he had when they had won Yorktown, when he thought his brother was really alive, or even when he had first heard whispers of revolution from Boston and New York and Philadelphia. 

Caleb was ecstatic, right there with him. 

He cautiously lowered a hand onto Ben’s knee. No one had any reason to be watching them. A smile warmed Caleb’s face, mirroring Ben’s own. “I’m proud of you, Benny.” 

“And you’ll still be right under my command. Washington wouldn’t let you get too far away.” Ben reached down to take a sip.

“What about you? Would you let me get that far away?” The warm smile on his face gave way to a more mischievous one as he squeezed his hand on Ben’s leg, just above his knee. Ben sputtered on his beer. 

“Of course not. Honestly, Caleb, sometimes…” He trailed off without a hint of disappointment. The shining expectancy and pure joy on Ben’s face was almost too much for Caleb to handle what with the alcohol and the heat of the tavern and the knowledge that no one in any tent was waiting up for them. With the disbanding of the dragoons, Washington had given them a week to leave camp or, in Ben’s case, a two day furlough as his men straggled home.

Caleb gulped down the rest of his ale. 

“Tallboy, I think this calls for some celebration.” He slowly, but fast enough to be noticeable, slid his hand as far up Ben’s thigh as he dared. No one was paying attention to them anyway. 

Ben nearly fell off of his stool. “Caleb,” he choked, placing his forearm over Caleb’s hand. 

Caleb pressured his leg from where it was trapped. “You deserve one hell of a congratulatory gift, Benjamin.” He whispered from as close as he dared. 

“Caleb, I’ve never -”

“Had sex before, yeah I got that bit. Neither have -”

“I’ve never been with a man before.” Ben averted his eyes and worried over his bottom lip, emphasizing the day old stubble across his cheeks. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Caleb had rarely seen Ben so flustered or worried. He looked worse than he had after hearing any news from Abe, or from hearing about Arnold, or about anything, really. 

“No, no, it’s fine, Ben. Really. I just wasn’t expecting that answer.” He have a reassuring look as best he could and continued. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to do anything.” 

Ben looked scandalized. “Caleb, if I could kiss you right now, I would.” 

Already scrambling towards the staircase, Caleb didn’t wait for Ben to catch up. Those long, muscular legs of his (not that Caleb had studied them, or anything) and his unparalleled enthusiasm would get Ben to Caleb quickly enough. 

The minute the door was closed - and locked - Ben was ripping his uniform off and pushing Caleb in the direction of the bed. His normally clear blue eyes were cloudier and darker than any stormy sea Caleb had witnessed. Ben was the only storm in which he wanted to drown. 

“Oh my God, I love you, Ben.” At the encouragement, Ben licked his lips and continued his task. 

While Ben’s hands and lips did wonders to get them both undressed in his furiously focused excitement, he was incredibly lost. Caleb rolled them over, standing up to take charge. 

Soon Ben was panting a chorus of  _ Oh _ s and  _ Lord _ s and  _ Caleb _ s and  _ Ah _ s that melted so quickly together into an entirely new language that Caleb felt he could have listened to enough to become fluent. Caleb had resigned his inner, and most likely outer, monologue to be  _ Ben _ s and  _ I love you _ s as connected in word form as they were in idea. 

***

A concerto of crickets and general wildlife sang them into the lull before sleep. Caleb, curled around Ben and tracing swirling patterns across his chest with a single fingertip, was struggling to keep his eyes open against the constant thrum of Ben’s heartbeat. 

“Caleb,” a soft whisper from above his head and a pause in the hand massaging through his hair. Caleb hummed against Ben’s warm skin. 

“Caleb -” Ben’s heart sped up. Caleb felt him squirm. “Caleb, I love you.”

It came out as a stumbling, staggering sentence. Like Ben had grown into the thought only as it passed through his lips. 

With a smile wider and deeper than any Caleb had known, he snuggled tighter against Ben’s chest, wrapping his arm around his middle. Ben touched his lips to the top of Caleb’s head and hugged him closer.

The morning saw them untangling themselves with smiles still plastered on their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. 
> 
> Don't get used to the cute because this is probably the most consecutive fluff y'all are getting (I'm sorry I know *retreats into writing cave*).
> 
> I have no clue what the time line is for the rest of this is, so your wonderful, amazing, fangirl patience is much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Much to Caleb’s chagrin, from the moment they stepped back into camp, Ben was completely on duty. Between sunrise and sunset (or often beyond) Ben was in Washington’s tent or headquarters and Caleb only caught glimpses of him walking to his tent or getting food for His Excellency and the aides. 

It was torture. 

He watched as the tips of Ben’s forefingers grew darker and darker with ink and the soft skin under his eyes grew darker and darker with exhaustion. He watched the quick, tight grins between them grow quicker and tighter. He watched the young, spry boy he once knew grow older and stiffer. 

Soft falls of snow had begun to coat the camp by the time Caleb caught wind of a signal from New York. As he rode hard through sharp air that grew sharper and over cold ground that grew colder, he thought of Ben: warm, distracted, useful. At least if he died, which was completely possible given the hundreds of miles between himself and camp, it could be months before Ben found out.

He didn’t die. He nearly throttled Abe - again - but Lieutenant Caleb Brewster made it back to camp without dieing or freezing or getting caught in the shifting snow piles lining his route.

Half-expecting to see Ben pacing in front of Caleb’s tent, Caleb slowed on his trusty steed as he rode through camp straight to Washington’s tent. The life guard stopped him with wary looks that more than likely had to do with the fact that he had yet to dismount. As one of the guards slipped inside to alert the company inside of Caleb’s presence, Caleb slipped to the ground with an approving nod from the guard. 

Hamilton appeared from between the vanilla flaps of the tent. Stepping close to Caleb, he gave a quick wink and said, “Major Tallmadge is in his own tent at present.” He pat Caleb’s shoulder with a smug smile before retreating into the tent. Caleb nearly sprinted across camp to get to him.

He flung open the flaps of the tent to reveal Ben kneeling in front of his bed, waistcoat clad and furiously scribbling on a lap desk. 

“This is a sight for sore eyes, Benny.” Ben looked up at him with pure confusion before realizing who it was. 

“Caleb,” he exhaled more than spoke as he stood up to hug him.

Caleb pressed the parcel of intel into Ben’s chest. “Compliments of Woody and his boyfriend.”

Ben scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll add it to the pile, then.” The paper made a soft noise as it hit the stack next to Ben’s lap desk on his bed. 

“You okay?” Caleb eyed Ben warily as he slowly, painfully lowered himself back down to the ground. Ben nodded slowly, cracking his wrist and picking up his pen again.

Caleb flopped on the side of the cot closest to the tent wall and farthest away from Ben and his work. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months, Benny, even with your Dragoon missions you were never away for more than a few days. That time you took out that Reverend? That was even a shorter break from you than this. Old Georgie’s working you too hard.” With no reaction, he continued. “I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind. Hell, he’s got one of his top assets (who has great assets, I would know) and is running him to the ground.” That got him an eyeroll. “A promotions only any good if you’re alive to get it.” Caleb absentmindedly ran his fingers over Ben’s not-writing hand that was stretched out on the bed. 

“Seriously, if you die, I’m going to have to go home and deal with Abe running between his wife - Mary, you’d like her - and his friend from the city - our man Culper Jr. You know what a wreck that is already? The little Cabbage just can’t keep it in his pants, Tallboy, it’s embarrassing.” Ben exhaled a laugh with the shake of a head, but kept on working. “I mean I guess the bitter, stubborn, brooding two of them could work together, but I prefer tall, strapping blonds with anger issues.” Ben glared up between his eyelashes, but released a full-on chuckle and turned his left hand over to lace his fingers with Caleb’s. 

They sat like that: illuminated by a single candle, lulled into silence by the scratch of pen on paper, and placated by the entanglement of their hands for what could have stretched into hours.

Caleb nodded awake when a freezing curl of wind slipped into the tent. Ben was failing to conceal a single shiver of goosebumps. 

“Ben, how’ve you gone this long without your uniform? Last time you were this undressed in winter was on the banks of the Delaware and we both know how that ended.” He was met with more intense scribbling. “Ben.” The Major snapped his head up and rubbed his eyes with his ink-smudged writing hand, dropping the quill on the bed. 

“Caleb, it is  _ entirely _ by sheer willpower and massive workload that I have succeeded in ignoring any weather.” Ben deadpanned, the lifts and tilts in his voice a familiar melody Caleb had achingly missed. 

Then he sneezed, a loud, tent-shaking, full-body sneeze.

A laugh bubbled out of Caleb’s gut. An explosive, contagious laugh that seemed to burst with light into the cool winter’s afternoon. Ben sat back away from the bed, blushing harsher than any redcoat Caleb had had the displeasure of seeing. 

Ben’s musical, toothy laugh had been gone for so long. It must have been since before Yale that Caleb had heard it, seen it, felt it. His eyes glittered bluer than the clear sky above, piercing straight through Caleb.

“I love you, Tallboy,” Caleb chuckled, watering slightly at his eyes.

Ben’s snicker died faster than it began, an awkward smile left in its wake. 

“Benny, I’m sorry.” Ben averted his eyes. “I shouldn’t say that right away when you’re working and I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re probably sick and I’m sorry.”

So caught up in his rapid apology was he that Ben’s ever-so chapped lips meeting his took him by surprise. One of Ben’s hands threaded into his beard and he nearly dashed all of his work over the tent as he scrambled to sit on the edge of the cot. They were eager and passionate without any expectation for anything to follow. It was wonderful to have Ben back and all to himself. 

***

Ben was working harder than ever, Caleb could easily see. He still saw less of him than he would have liked. Caleb was left between battles and runs to New York to sit outside and watch Ben scurry between the Generals’ tents or to sentries. While Ben was always on task and on duty, unlike Caleb, he always found Caleb right away and smirked at him. Caleb was in General Washington’s presence less and less, but he didn’t mind. The Commander could be tightlipped and stuffy at times. 

One evening Caleb was boring holes into the side of His Excellency’s tent as Ben and the General were the only two behind the canvas walls. 

“You’re not going to get any good information from this distance, Brewster.” Caleb jumped from his low position near a fire built for warmth on a chilly spring night. Hamilton. “The Old Man’s in a good mood lately, don’t you worry about your boy in there.” His smirk seemed a permanent fixture on his face.

“Yeah, well he may not be once this meeting’s over.” Hamilton simply assessed Caleb. It was uncomfortable, at best, and gave Caleb the impression that Hamilton knew more about Ben than he was letting on. Caleb wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Not with Hamilton’s freckles, and wavy hair, and piercing eyes: Caleb wasn’t jealous.

“I suppose we’ll see, Brewster,” Hamilton urged, nodded over Caleb’s shoulder at the tent in question. Caleb turned in time to see Ben step out into the night with a tight bow to the General. He lit up upon seeing Caleb. 

As he stood to meet Ben and walk back to their tents, Caleb looked back at Hamilton, still crouched on the ground but watching another one of Washington’s aides from across camp. Caleb wasn’t jealous. Not with the way Ben was brushing his hand against Caleb’s or looking at him like he hung the moon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's gay. Hamilton seems to be the only one who picks up on all the Gay happening.
> 
> I just have 2 chapters left to write! We're getting there folks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features:  
> \- a very extremely totally historically accurate Hamilton  
> \- a brief view of a medical tent, though not in loads of detail, and numerous mentions of blood  
> \- the author's blood, sweat, and tears

Caleb was painfully aware of the cool expanse of skin behind him. He blinked awake, cringing against the warm, summer morning air and the harsh sunlight that accompanied it. He snuggled closer to Ben, letting him unconsciously loop his arm around Caleb’s waist. 

Gently running the tips of his fingers over Ben’s hip behind him, he felt Ben wake up and release a deep sigh of contentment. Ben’s lips moved up and down Caleb’s neck and across his shoulder. Caleb hummed at the attention. 

Without prompting, Caleb turned under Ben’s arm to face him. He slid his hand up Ben’s chest to rest on the side of his neck. He ignored the sounds of horses and men moving outside. It was so hard to simply lean forward and brush their lips together when Ben’s eyes were happily, liberally roaming over his face and neck and camp life was going on beyond the canvas walls of their paradise. Caleb leaned as close as he could before smiling, wide, and touching his lips to Ben’s. They stayed pressed against each other for several minutes, their hips and legs kept close by Ben’s hand splayed across Caleb’s back. They kissed slowly, delicately, lazily, grinning the entire time. 

Ben smoothed a curl back from Caleb’s forehead. “Thank you for last night,” he whispered, a blissful smile still dancing on his face, as he ran a thumb across Caleb’s cheekbone. 

“It’s been how long, Tallboy?” He smirked back. When Ben rolled his eyes he pecked him on the nose. “You don’t need to thank me every time I sneak into your tent at night.” He grazed the tip of Ben’s nose with his own. 

Ben pulled him impossibly closer. “But, Caleb, the improved results.” Caleb felt the words spoken against his cheek.

Unable to focus with Ben’s nipping along his jawline, Caleb tipped his head back. “That’s mostly you,” he chuckled. 

Caleb could feel Ben’s smile against the skin over his collarbone. “Maybe,” a light kiss, “one of these nights,” another, “I’ll be the one,” yet another, “sneaking into your tent,” and one more kiss low on Caleb’s neck. More by suggestive touch than force, Caleb shifted Ben to be perched over him, hands on either side of Caleb’s head as Ben tucked his neck to keep his lips on the thin skin under Caleb’s chin and beard. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Ben pulled his head up with a short burst of laughter at Caleb’s audacity. 

All those years of listening to Reverend Tallmadge talk about Heaven, and Caleb never thought he’d actually get there. According to the Reverend, stealing and jealousy were sins, but Caleb had dreamed of being a pirate. According to the Reverend, good people payed tithes and spent their free time praying, but Caleb had elected to save up and practice to  _ become _ said pirate. But here Caleb was: warm, comfortable, giddy, and in heaven, Ben Tallmadge’s heart the only treasure having been stolen.

Ben captured Caleb’s smile and strategically rolled down his hips, leaving Caleb gasping against his mouth.

“I think it’s better for everyone if we pretend that Lieutenant Brewster is drowning and that I happened to catch a certain Major Tallmadge attempting to revive him.” Both Ben and Caleb snapped their heads to the flaps of the tent where Colonel Hamilton stood, assessing them with a presumed look of innocence. Ben didn’t move from where he was, except to cringe at Hamilton’s presence. “Camp is moving out and the Old Fox sent me to be sure that you were ready, Major.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Hamilton still stood, feet together and head cocked to the side, flickering his gaze between the eyes of the entangled officers on the cot in front of him. “Colonel, could you step outside for a moment?” A fake pout settling on Hamilton’s face, he looked utterly confused and slowly blinked at Ben. “Hamilton, it would seem that I’m not wearing breeches.” Caleb watched Hamilton leave the tent with a corner of his mouth turned up devilishly, thankfully securing the flaps behind him. 

Ben, with a short kiss that was impossibly romantic given the circumstances, scrambled off of Caleb, out of bed, and into his breeches. He dragged Hamilton back into the tent as he slipped on his shirt. Herding him into the corner farthest from the cot, Caleb could just overhear their conversation. 

“Ham, please keep this between us, it’s -” 

Hamilton settled a hand on Ben’s elbow. “Tallmadge. I’ve known longer than you have and I have yet to snitch on you.” 

Ben smiled a beautiful, thankful smile. 

***

It came out of nowhere. 

A pop of musket fire and Ben was on the ground as blue uniforms streaked around him. 

Caleb had been kicked out of the medical tent. They had the nerve to say that he was a distraction, although dozens of men were being dragged in with their intestines hanging out, spitting up blood, or already showing the yellow signs of gangrene and all of them screaming their heads off. At least Caleb had the decency to fume quietly. 

The doctors said that Ben’s horse was shot out from under him and he narrowly avoided both a cannonball and a bayonet to the chest. He was alive, but they hadn’t said how bad the actual damage was. Caleb didn’t care what happened: he cared that Ben would live. 

Ben was fine.

Ben was fine.

Ben was  _ fine _ .

_ Ben would be fine _ .

He  _ had _ to be. 

One morning Caleb made the customary trek to the medical tent only to be told that Major Tallmadge was no longer there. His vision went blurry and he tasted the harsh sting of blood. His ears rang and his knees threatened to flatten him. He was shaking - shaking so hard. No, that wasn’t him, that was the young medic shaking him. “Lieutenant Brewster, he’s been moved to his own tent. He’ll be recovering.” 

Before he knew it, Caleb found himself kicking a young woman with blood stains up to her elbows out of Ben’s tent. He threw himself on the ground in front of his bed, skimming his hands over skin, cloth, and bandage, assessing the damage himself. “Oh God, Benny, you can’t do this to me.” Warm, tacky blood wet his fingertips. “You can’t die on me this far away from home and when I love you this much, Tallboy.” 

The girl came in again. “Sir? General Washington and the doctor are coming in to see the Major.” 

Caleb nodded but didn’t move. She gave an awkward curtsy and left the tent. She still had blood covering her hands. Ben’s blood. 

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Brewster,” was all that Washington said. 

The tall, thin, balding doctor cleared his throat and stepped next to the General, forcing Caleb to the far side of the tent. “Major Tallmadge is only suffering a broken leg, a shallow bayonet wound across his stomach, and a few impact wounds from gravel projected by a cannon ball.” 

“Only!” Caleb couldn’t keep from interjecting. Both men ignored him. 

Washington gave a grave nod and thanked both Caleb and the doctor before ducking out of the tent. 

“You can either stay or leave, I do not care, but if you’re squeamish -”

Caleb nearly throttled the doctor. “I’m not leaving him.”

***

When the doctor had finished changing Ben’s bandages and he had sufficiently knotted the flaps of the tent closed, Caleb had curled up on the cot next to Ben, lightly resting his head on Ben’s shoulder. Ben hadn’t woken up since Caleb had seen him, though he had moaned and writhed under the doctor’s care. If he didn’t know better, Caleb would have thought Ben was taunting him.

Caleb gently settled a hand on Ben’s chest and let his thumb trail over the skin between his collarbone and the yards of fabric covering his wounds. “Oh, Benny.” He softly cried. 

Ben stirred beneath him. A long hand caressed the back of his head as Caleb blinked away his tears. The voice was rough and wet above him, “Caleb?”  

“Ben, I’m right here, don’t you worry. I swear if I knew that all of this would happen to you I would never have let you enlist.” 

“Caleb, do you need me to move?” Ben sounded so innocent in his concern.

“Benjamin you have a broken leg and then some, you ain’t moving.”

“Are you sure?” 

If Caleb didn’t love this boy so much, he would have gotten frustrated. Instead, he tilted his head to kiss the corner of Ben’s jaw and neck. “I’ve got you right where I want you, Tallboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned next week for copious amounts of angst!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification: the last chapter took place early in the summer of 1782, this takes place in November of 1783.
> 
> Also, this is where we earn the angst tag. 
> 
> Final chapter up tomorrow because this one is terrible and I need to work on other stuff. <3

As Caleb rode up to the stately white house, he saw Ben’s figure in a front window. Though eager to see him, hear him,  _ feel _ him, Caleb took his time tying up his horse and walking up to the door. He didn’t even have to knock. 

Ben swung open the door with a wide, toothy smile and gestured him inside. The door was barely closed before they were kissing long and deep and happy: Caleb’s hands on Ben’s face to feel the skin he had missed for weeks and Ben’s arms secured around Caleb’s waist. When they finally leaned apart, Caleb murmured against Ben’s chin, “I’ve missed you.”  Ben was still grinning down at Caleb with all the adoration Caleb was channeling into his own gaze.

“Do you want to see the house?” The simple question in all of its mundanity shocked Caleb into a laugh. 

“Of course, Tallboy, though that ain’t what I came to see.” He laced their fingers together, comfortable in their privacy. 

Ben led the way down the main hallway towards the back of the house, allowing Caleb to appreciate the way he looked in civilian clothes not designed for sneaking and spying and killing anonymously. “I want you to see the yard first,” Ben threw over his shoulder with a smile. Caleb didn’t care what any of it looked like as long as there were walls and a roof, but seeing Ben so visibly excited about something again made it all worth it. 

It was starting to rain when they stepped out onto the grass. Caleb took in the pink and white flowers dotting the otherwise green and brown expanse as far as he could see, the weather only enhancing the variety of hues. “The last owner kind of let it go, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’ll be easier to get in shape than Abe, anyways.” 

“The little bastard sends his word, by the way.” Ben released his hand slowly, not to stop touching him but to wipe water from his forehead. 

“I should go down and see Setauket again. If they’ll have me.” 

“They’d be stupid not to.”

Ben grabbed Caleb’s hand again, holding it like it was a delicate and precious thing. He traced the veins in his hand and the ridges of his knuckles, his blunt fingernails faintly scratching at Caleb’s skin. “Caleb,” he seemed flustered and quiet. “Caleb, stay with me.” He ducked his head to keep his eyes from Caleb’s. Once he started talking, the words just spilled out, “My father would love to have you around again and the town has been so good to war veterans. I know we’re not on the water, but you can find work with a carpenter or someone. And people will respect privacy so we could do whatever we wanted in here without anyone knowing, Caleb.” 

Caleb let out a laugh. Ben snapped his head up, slightly offended. “Ben, I’d love to but it’s not possible.” He was met with a glare. “Not that I don’t want to, Benny, it’s just that I already accepted a job down in Black Rock. You know you can’t get me away from the water for long.” Ben dropped his hand. “It isn’t fair to you for me to stay here,” he attempted to reason.

“Shut up.”

“Look, we’re not that far apart: only about a day’s journey it’s not like we’re at opposite ends of the globe, Ben. But we’ve done it before and we could do it again.”

“Shut up,” Ben said, louder this time.

Caleb raised his voice, too. “Benny, I’m not doing this.”

“It kind of sounds like you are.” Ben was getting louder, a fire behind his eyes Caleb hadn’t seen since open combat.

“I can’t just walk away after I gave my word to a blacksmith, Ben, you of all people should know about loyalty and dedication.” Caleb was nearly yelling.

“You don’t seem to be grasping the concept of  _ loyalty _ right now. Caleb, I need you!”

“I need you, too, but fifty miles difference isn’t going to kill us, Ben.” Caleb and Ben were getting closer, making their argument seem louder than it was. 

“Shut. Up.” Ben seethed.

“No. I love you and I’m not going to let you get away with hiding from reality. The war is over and you need to get back to real life, Ben. I only need you to do this because I love you.” Caleb had screamed. In his anger and frustration he had screamed that he loved Ben. Those three delicate words so warped and destroyed by volume and emotion.

“Shut up,” Ben yelled back. 

They were inches apart. “Make me,” Caleb challenged, still louder than he wanted to.

Ben’s eyes flicked down to Caleb’ lips. 

Before he knew it, the panels of Ben’s house were digging into Caleb’s back as rain poured down on them, Ben’s thigh between Caleb’s legs and his teeth nipping at Caleb’s mouth. Between being soaking wet and Ben sneering at him and using his teeth like that while pressing against him, Caleb could barely breathe.

Ben pushed him back inside before finding his lips again. Caleb got used to the shoving and kissing and stripping as Ben shucked off both of their clothes on the way up the stairs towards his room. 

*** 

By the time they were gasping for air, stuck with sweat to Ben’s sheets, Caleb had bruises on his hips and Ben had bright red scratches down his back. Thunder rippled over head, shaking the house.

The room was sparse, only a simple, four-poster bed and wardrobe in the corner. Ben’s campaign chest was tucked at the foot of the bed. Caleb saw Ben, flopped on his back next to him, reach up to absentmindedly run a hand through his loose hair and let his arm swing over to rest his hand on Ben’s ribcage. 

“I do love you, Ben.” He didn’t respond. “I only gave the blacksmith my word for the winter. Then I can -” Ben cut him off with a kiss. 

“It’s alright. I’ll wait for you.” They laid in comfortable silence: Ben propped up on an elbow, threading his fingers through Caleb’s curls while Caleb glanced his knuckles over Ben’s stomach. “We should probably go pick up our clothes before they ruin the floor.” 

Caleb let out a breath of a laugh. “I’m not sure I can walk.” Ben pecked him on the forehead. “I’m serious, Tallboy, not after what you put me through.” 

Ben stood, finding his breeches and sliding them on, earning a groan from Caleb. Helping him stand, Ben pulled Caleb’s back against him with arms around his middle and a chin over his shoulder. “I’ll help you.”

They took their time through the house, Ben walking Caleb down the stairs and through the downstairs, giving him the tour he had neglected earlier. He pressed gentle, tender kisses to Caleb’s neck as he pointed out his favorite rooms and his plans for furniture or expansions. 

Dressing in their breeches and shirts, they made a simple stew together using Ben’s limited pantry and curled up in bed eating and reminiscing. 

Caleb fell asleep to the sound of Ben’s heartbeat mingled with the melody of his reading voice. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

A soft snow skimmed its fingers across the windows, its breath whispering beneath the door to flicker the candles in the front room. Ben was lounged on a chaise, halfway next to and halfway underneath Mary.

Miss Mary Floyd had caught Ben’s eye at a dinner held in his honor by her father, a prominent man in town. Her bright smile and dancing eyes had reminded him of home while her confidence and energy reminded him of the cause for which he had spent what seemed like most of his life fighting. She wasn’t Caleb. Ben had run that across his mind a million times before he had resigned himself that her presence was better than being alone. She genuinely cared for him and wanted him to be truly happy. On more occasions than just that night, Mary had slipped her parents’ careful gaze to spend time with him. Ben couldn’t condone highly inappropriate behavior, but he could iterate to her father, to the best of his ability, that they spent that time conversing or walking. It had been true until tonight.

Tonight he had his arm around her waist, toying with the ribbons on her stomacher as she settled against his chest. Tonight he was nuzzling his nose and the very tips of his lips against the side of her neck. Tonight he was slightly grinding lightly against her back. If she were adverse to it, she would vocalize her discomfort. That had been the longstanding agreement she had initiated at the beginning of their correspondence. 

Mary let forth a stream of light laughs as she squirmed in his arms. He smirked against her skin. “Benjamin,” she half-heartedly scolded. 

He liked that she called him Benjamin. His father merely called him ‘son,’ now, and Washington had even taken to calling him Ben. 

Ben hummed into her collarbone.

“Benjamin, do you love me?” He pulled his head up with a puckered brow, the sudden question alarming in its density. Tightening his arm around her waist, he skated over her cheekbone with his nose until he heard a knock on the door. He and Mary sprung to opposite ends of the chaise and straightened themselves as much as possible. 

Warily, Ben tip toed to the front door, picking up a candle as he went. He creaked the door open to reveal a familiar figure in a wide brimmed hat covered in a thin layer of frost. Nevermind the freezing snow soaking his stockinged feet or the goosebumps rising on his arms or the state his entire person was in, he carefully dropped the candle on a table and roped Caleb into his arms.

“Caleb, what brings you up here?” Ben’s hands were still locked on Caleb’s shoulders. He let out a surprised laugh. 

Caleb looked at him with those deep, brown eyes that seemed to be a mix of sad and happy. “My smithing partner needs high quality pewter and he only buys from a friend in Boston. I volunteered to go because I figured I could swing by.” Wringing his hat in his hands, Caleb made no motion into the house or towards Ben.

“You can come in, you know I don’t usually bite,” Ben smirked at him. 

“Well, Colonel, I saw that you had company.” Caleb was doing his best to give Ben a pleased look, but even in half-light Ben knew better than that. That discussion could wait.

“That would be Miss Floyd,” he announced and waved Caleb into the sitting room to reveal Mary. “Miss Mary Floyd, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Caleb Brewster, of Setauket.” She extended a thin, pale hand to Caleb, ducking her chin to glance up through her eyelashes. 

“A pleasure, Lieutenant, the Colonel has told me so much of you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss, though I fear you’re a mystery to me,” Caleb sliced his eyes over to Ben as he raised Mary’s hand to his lips. Mary looked confusedly over to Ben with a slight tilt to her head. 

“Miss Floyd was just about to head out, Lieutenant.” He smiled at Mary, who still had a quirk on her brow. She stood up, all the same, and let Ben lead her to the door. 

He brought her up to the entryway and turned her around to tie her cloak under her chin. “Are you alright to ride home alone in this mess? I can help you home if you need it, without hesitation.”

Mary smirked, “No, Colonel, you have company and you forget I’ve spent my entire life weathering Connecticut winters.” Ben pressed his lips to her forehead before she spun out the door to her horse. 

“Well she seems nice.” Caleb’s ever-sarcastic tone echoed from the other room. Ben found him sitting comfortably on the chaise, his hat on the table. 

“Caleb, she’s not… there’s not anything serious between us, so I don’t -”

“Given the state of the both of you, I’ll take that to be a lie.” Caleb beamed up at Ben with that beard and those youthful eyes of his. 

“Please don’t be angry, if anything -” Ben started, sitting down next to Caleb. 

“Benny, I understand. It’s fine. I  _ know _ you.” Caleb covered Ben’s hand with his own. With the winter chill and the unexpected presence of his best friend, Ben leaned forward toward Caleb, like they used to. Caleb pulled back, tension behind his eyes. “Ben, I can’t.”

Ben retracted his hand, pulling his eyebrows together and letting his jaw hang open in disbelief. “You - you what? We used to do this all the time, Caleb. Is this because of Mary, because if it is I’ll never see her again.”

“Ben, don’t -”

“I’m serious. I’ll skip her family dinner tomorrow and never talk to her again if you so much as say the word. Caleb, you mean so much more to me than she can.” 

Caleb was silent for a moment, mulling over Ben’s declaration. “Benjamin, do you love her?”

Ben laughed. He stood, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing over his forehead. “Benjamin now, is it?” He scoffed again. “No. I don’t. I  _ suppose _ I could grow to love her but at present I do not.”

Caleb compressed his sitting figure in on itself. “Benny, here’s what you’re going to do. I am going to leave, and tomorrow at that dinner, you’re gonna ask the girl to marry you. Do you understand?” Ben just stared back at him, that murderous fire behind his eyes. “Ben, I need you to. You  _ have _ to.”

“No I don’t and,” he slightly raised his voice to cover Caleb’s attempt at an interjection. “And I still outrank you,  _ Lieutenant _ , unless you’d forgotten.” He paused just long enough for Caleb to open his mouth again. “Why? Why do you want me to ignore the only person - outside my family - I’ve ever loved?” Ben was full-on gesturing now: pacing and moving his hands around emphatically. 

“To make you happy, Tallboy.” Caleb was calmer than Ben expected. So calm that it was pissing Ben off. 

“Make me happy?” He stabbed a finger into his chest, a dull pain blossoming from the force. “Caleb, you’re the only thing that could ever make me happy.” Ben felt himself baring his teeth and folding his face down dangerously close to Caleb’s. It reminded him of his interrogation days and all of those hours trying to terrify the facts out of some deserter or traitor. He schooled himself. This was Caleb, not any enemy. 

“Ben. It has to be done.”

“You amaze me, Caleb Brewster, you really do.” He was back to pacing and had switched to a quiet, tired, revealing voice. “Why on earth would you deny yourself happiness and what you really want? And why you would rope me into the same scheme? Caleb, it’s no surprise we only want each other.” Caleb licked his lips and opened his mouth, but Ben wasn’t about to let him start again.

“I know I didn’t always get it, but you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted. When I felt like the whole army was going to mutiny and that freedom with these colonists would never work, I didn’t look to Washington to find a cause. I left him to Ham, and Lafayette, and all of them. I looked to you. You, Caleb.” He ran a ragged hand over his hair. 

“I never told you this. I never told you that when I killed Reverend Worthington, Lieutenant Gamble shot me and a woman living in the woods took me in to care for me. I knew better than to tell her my real name - not in those circumstances - so I told her I was the Reverend Benjamin Brewster. Caleb, that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not losing my brother, or walking my whole regiment into a trap, or killing one of the boys under my command, or putting our friends in danger every day for six years, or watching your uncle die, or watching  _ you _ watch your uncle die. It wasn’t being responsible for Sackett’s death. It wasn’t anything I ever did for this bloody country that I told myself I never would. It was calling myself Benjamin Brewster because I knew in that single moment that that was all I ever wanted. That that was the one thing I needed, but I knew. I knew in the dark corners of my being  _ even then _ that it couldn’t happen.”

Caleb wasn’t looking at him like the broken creature he was. No, Caleb Brewster was too good for that. Even from where Ben was skulking in the shadows of a corner, he wouldn’t look at him with pity or sympathy. It was something deeper and more complex than that. 

“Ben, I know. I know how badly you want this, trust me I do.” His laugh was completely humorless. “But - dammit Benny - there’s no way I’ll let you do this. You’ve worked too hard for this. You deserve a big house, and a beautiful wife, and a dozen little Tallmadges running around like we did when we were kids. You deserve a solid job, and a perfect reputation, and all the honors anyone can think to give you.” If Ben didn’t know better, he’d think Caleb was crying. “Ben, I can’t give you that.” The waiver in his voice gave his emotional state away. “I wish it were different, but there’s no way we can be truly happy together and you can get the life you deserve and have worked for.”

Ben found his own face slick with tears and wiped them away as quickly as he could. In the blink of an eye, he had strode over to Caleb and was kneeling on the ground before him, his hands grabbing, desperate, pathetic on his knees. 

“I’m not supposed to know this, but,” a shallow sob interrupted him, “Baron Von Steuben has a place in New York. He’ll take us in, no questions asked, and no one will know.” Caleb looked away from him to shake his head. “Or Ham? He’ll surely help us. I’m not supposed to know this either, but he’s feeling guilty for Laurens dying, and I’ve heard his wife is a saint and -”

“Ben, no.”

He rolled his eyes, searching for an alternate plan. There had to be something. Some way to do this. “We’ll buy some land out west. No one around us for miles. We’d have to live off the land ourselves, but we could do it, Caleb, I know we could. Hell, just move in. I’ll stop talking to Mary… I mean Miss Floyd. I’d stop seeing her and you could say you were my brother, or cousin, or just a friend from the war and no one would need to know, Caleb.” 

Caleb, the tip of his tongue just coloring his lower lip with saliva, shakingly lowered his hands over Ben’s. “Ben, I know how badly you want there to be another solution, but there isn’t. I’ve thought over them all.” With his sight roaming all over Ben’s face, Ben found it nearly impossible to lock eyes with Caleb. He was openly crying now, wobbling breaths spinning past his lips and desperation clogging his nose. “Go marry your girl. Forget about me.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” Ben begged, dragging Caleb closer to him as best he could with only his palms. 

“Fine, Benny,” Caleb conceded with a blubbering attempt at a chuckle. “Don’t forget about me, just stop trying to tell yourself that she’s me.  _ Try _ to love her, Ben, I know you have it in you.” He raised a hand to stroke Ben’s hair away from his face. 

Ben lowered a slick cheek onto the layers of hands on one of Caleb’s knees. “I love you.” A staggering breath whimpered through his lungs. “I love you.” A single picturesque tear made its presence well-known as it wound down his face and through Caleb’s fingers. “I love you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed around the fear in his throat. “I love you.” He turned his head to crush his lips into Caleb’s tanned skin. “I love you.” His voice was nearly silent now and rough with emotion. But he knew Caleb had heard him. 

Tipping his head up, Ben saw Caleb more from memory than in actuality because his eyes were so pressed together with tears. Caleb ran his fingers and palms all over Ben’s face and neck and shoulders. A ghostly touch Ben could hardly stand. 

Caleb’s voice was thick when he finally spoke. “I’d better be going, Tallboy.” Ben peeled himself off of Caleb’s lap and wiped at his eyes with his knuckles, dragging red lines across his blotchy face. 

“Stay,” was all he managed to squeak out. 

***

His bed was colder than he remembered, even though he was sharing with someone for the first time in months. He couldn’t help but wrap himself around Caleb: it was the best way to keep him from seeing the tears. 

***

_ September 12, 1785 _

_ Caleb, _

_ Happy birthday. I know, it’s been a few years, but I never once forgot. I never once forgot you, Caleb. I told you I never could and I now know that to be true. _

_ I married her. Mary and I were married in the spring after you left. It was beautiful, with all the flowers and the birds. The Woodhulls came up and Thomas ran around with the neighborhood children and it felt like a memory. My father looked as happy as I could remember, but I could tell he was looking for you. I’ll confess that I was, too.  _

_ She’s gorgeous in a way that I never noticed before. She’s sleeping next to me right now. You and she sleep on different sides of the bed and it’s a strange adjustment, but it makes me think of you less. She feels so small and delicate that I’m constantly afraid of breaking her. I’m suppose I’m still used to you. _

_ We have a son, Caleb. He was born a few months ago and he’s the picture of perfection. He’s got my eyes, apparently, which should make for an interesting boy. Mary tells me I wear all my emotions on my face and while I wouldn’t wish that on any boy of mine, he won’t have to go to war. He won’t be put in the situations in which we found ourselves so it won’t matter.  _

_ Mary wants you to come visit. She wants to get to know you. I told her that that wasn’t going to happen and she looked at me with such sympathy and understanding - I feel that she knows something of us. I remember that night you came and left. You looked at me the same way and I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now I recognize it as a look of love. You did love me, Caleb, didn’t you? I know I loved you. I still do, but not the way I love Mary, or William - my son. I love you like I could only love you, Caleb. _

_ Don’t forget to write, and remember that you’re never a stranger here. _

_ Yours, ever affectionately, _

_ Col. Benj. Tallmadge. _

***

_ August 18, 1796 _

_ Colonel Tallmadge, _

_ It doesn’t feel quite right calling you Ben anymore, now that I never see you. That’s my own fault though, and I apologize.  _

_ I married a girl - her name’s Anna, if you can believe it - and we’ve had a few children, but another son was born yesterday and she finally let me name him Benjamin. Benjamin Brewster. How d’you like the sound of that? _

_ No, Ben, I didn’t love you. I still do. I love you like I could only love you.  _

_ I’m no Yale boy, so excuse my brevity, but I miss you something awful. _

_ Tell Mary I think she’s lovely. Tell your boy about me, eh Tallboy? _

_ Your friend, affectionately at your service, _

_ Lieut. Caleb Brewster. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.
> 
> We made it.


End file.
